The Song and the Singer
by Aerides
Summary: Charles deChagny, the son of the Viscount deChagny and the reclusive Opera singer Christine Daae, finds himself in an army hospital during World War One and shares a confession about his past to his fellow patient Major Jean Laurent.


**The Song and the Singer**

* * *

**Summary – Charles deChagny, son of the reclusive Opera star Christine Daae, finds himself in an army hospital during World War One and shares a confession about his past to his fellow patient Major Jean Laurent. Two-Shot**

**A/N – This was a bizarre idea inspired by David Bowie's flashback sequence from Merry Christmas Mr Lawrence. It's probably one of my favourite films, although it's one of those movies that's guaranteed to make me cry like a baby. So I sort of pilfered some of the dialogue and put it in an entirely different time-line and setting. This story isn't based on any particular version of PoTO but if pressed it's probably closest to Kay's version in terms of the time-line and events.**

**Disclaimer- Concepts and characters belong to Lloyd-Webber, Leroux, Kay, Van der Post and Oshima. I own nothing.**

* * *

December 1917 – Ypres

"Major?"

"Major?"

"Jean..."

Jean Laurent cracked an eye open. Where on earth was he? Oh of course, he was on the ward. They had spent most of the week picking shrapnel out of him. He felt odd, disjointed somehow. He was aware that he was lying there inside his own body, but somehow it didn't feel real. Perhaps it was all the morphine they had given him.

The ward was cold and sterile and had a terrible draft that always left him stiff and achy in the morning. It was after lights out but Major Laurent's immediate neighbour had started talking for the first time since he had been admitted, although the sound only came out as a strained whisper. The man in question was Charles deChagny, he was viscount or something like that, back when titles meant something, he knew him fairly well, and they had even fought together at the Somme. But the body in the bed next to him was nothing like the courageous young man he had once known, a victim of the latest gas attack.

"What's wrong with us, Jean?" Charles managed to choke out. Poor man used to have such a wonderful speaking voice, but now anything more than a whisper came out as a terrible and pained croak.

"I don't know." He whispered back, it wouldn't do to wake the other men on the ward. "It was an anxious world, and we could do nothing individually so we went mad, en masse."

"God, I wish it would stop burning."

As his eyes became used to the darkness, Laurent could make out the man in the bed next to his, struggling to breath from the terrible effects of the Yperite. A dressing covered the right side of his face and he could only imagine the horrible injuries the gas had inflicted upon it. The horror of the situation brought him down into reality, and his brow furrowed with anger. Three years ago he would have been clamouring to get back to the front, blood boiling and demanding vengeance. He knew better now.

"I don't want to hate any individual German." He murmured more to himself than to anyone else.

"What's up Major?"

"I was dreaming." He replied, remembering why he had been so disorientated when he had awoken. "I was dreaming about this woman. I only met her twice, just before Liege fell. The streets were just packed with people. Everybody was trying to get out, they'd all gone mad. And there was this girl, who was different from, well everyone else really. She didn't seem to be frightened. I was frightened." He laughed bitterly, why on earth would he admit to something like that? "We talked about the war. I said it would all be over in a few months, perhaps we would be able to resolve all of this before Christmas."

"I remember saying that once." DeChagny said with a small chuckle that turned into a painful sounding cough.

"We talked about the war, and she kept saying. 'What's the truth? I want to know the truth?' Bloody silly question, really. We arranged to have breakfast together the next morning, but the attack had started and I was called away with the third division. Anyway I got back to the hotel a few days later, and would you believe it she was still there, standing in exactly the same place, as if she hadn't moved since I walked away. " he sighed "I don't think I want to talk about this anymore really. Charles, are you still awake?"

"Yes I suppose so."

"What's the matter?"

"Oh, everything and nothing...The past, again and again. You've got me at it now, Laurent." The younger man said.

"Who is she? Your turn in the confessional."

"I've not had many romantic interludes of great importance." deChagny replied with a sigh "My experience lies in the field of betrayal."

* * *

**To be Continued**


End file.
